


Absolution (and how it burns)

by EvilPeaches



Category: Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel - James Luceno, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Bitterness, Childhood Trauma, Drama & Romance, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Forgiveness, Jyn is really sour about her childhood, M/M, Post-Rogue One, Prisoner Orson Krennic, The Rebel Base, Unhealthy Relationships, rating to go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilPeaches/pseuds/EvilPeaches
Summary: The only thing she can do is thank her lucky stars that she gets to her father in time, just before Cassian can pull the trigger.Captain Cassian Andor, with his elusiveness and lovely dark eyes. Judgment, always written on his lips.__________________________________________________________Or: In the aftermath of everything, Jyn Erso struggles with her ghosts and the emotional scars from her turbulent past. Galen Erso must contend with his.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Chirrut Îmwe & Baze Malbus, Galen Erso/Orson Krennic
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	Absolution (and how it burns)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters or Star Wars or Rogue One. Nope. 
> 
> **AN:** Alright, I wanted to write a Post-Rogue One with everyone somehow managing to live. Kinda slow burn with that good old enemies to friends to lovers trope that we all just love to death. Rating will likely increase.

Forgiveness. It’s a noun, Jyn knows this much.

She just has a problem understanding the _how_ of it and the _why_. Does one simply forget abandonment? Does one simply forget what that feels like? The aching hole in one’s chest, yawning and eternal. Over the years, she’s replayed old memories, trying to find meaning in them. Trying to reach the feeling of _belonging_.

As if trapped in a loop, she still can’t get past the fact that her parents left her when they shouldn’t have. They left for reasons she didn’t quite understand; a child can’t be expected to understand. Despite Saw taking her into his care, into the care of his fanatics for a few years, the lingering thought of _is there something wrong with me, did I do something wrong,_ continues to gnaw at her spine, like a rat on a corpse.

She’s older when Saw leaves her too. Another blow, another knife in her chest, digging deeper with insidious intent. She’s old enough to understand that her father is an Imperial Science Officer, old enough to understand that he’s working against everything that Saw and his crew believe in. Saw always said Galen Erso didn’t believe in the Empire, that he was pressed into working for them, but it never quite lessened the sting.

Her father is alive and so is she, yet here Jyn remains; fatherless as far as she is concerned.

Instead, she prefers to carry a bitter flame in her chest, one that grows and grows.

She’s a survivor, as it were, though she doesn’t view it that way.

No, no matter what Saw Gerrera says, she doesn’t feel like a survivor.

Instead, she feels like _collateral damage_. 

_Noun: injury inflicted on something other than an intended target.  
  
_

* * *

_  
  
_

For years on her own, Jyn easily finds trouble. Over and over again.

She’s not certain how to avoid it.

Repeated run-ins with the law, violence that makes her blood sing, makes her feel at home, silences the chaos in her heart.

There’s prison, too. Cages, where she’s only able to be alone with herself, as she’s always been, ash and bitterness on her tongue, as if she’s burning alive from the inside.

When the rebels come, it’s unexpected. _Unwanted_.

 _I never asked for anyone’s help,_ Jyn thinks. _I don’t need anyone_.  
  


* * *

  
  
Cassian Andor is a quietly handsome man, with midnight eyes that remind Jyn of the fathoms of deep space. Full of hidden horrors and regret and an icy cold that one can feel in their bones.

He’s doesn’t like her, doesn’t trust her one ounce. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t have much trust in her either, not for anyone. Not anymore.

There are sharp edges to him that can’t be breached, a wall he puts up around himself. She wonders about that.

She wonders if he carries a darkness inside of him, just like she does.  
  


* * *

_  
Cassian’s handy in a fight._

_Jyn can admire that, even as Jedha is reduced to horror and rubble._

_Even as she finds herself shaken, leaving Saw behind as everything is consumed by the Empire’s weapon of mass destruction. Even as she finds herself completely torn, after seeing the message from her father, hearing him speak to her, the emotion and desperation in his tone._

_The way he said Stardust is burned into her skull._

_It’s almost like feeling vindication. She wants to scream to the world that her father isn’t just some Imperial Science Officer. No. He’s so much_ more _. He’s a hero, he’s sacrificed himself all these years, just to make sure he could sabotage the Death Star._

_And yet, it doesn’t lighten the emptiness inside, the scarred place inside of Jyn that still sounds like a sad, lonely girl, wondering why her father couldn’t have simply taken her with him._

_She would have given anything to be with him. She would have been a prisoner, gladly, if only to be able to be with him at the end of every day. To feel his warm, loving arms around her and to listen to his voice, rumbling in his chest._

_So, even as they pull away from the decimation of Jedha, Jyn finds herself feeling like she’s part of something bigger. Like, her existence means something. She has a purpose, a quest. A mission that she can fulfill for her father._

_She’ll help the rebels with everything she has, if only to make sure that Galen Erso’s hard work isn’t for nothing._

_Now, she’s not entirely alone. Surrounded by a new group of people, all from different walks of life. Cassian is no warmer than he was when she met him, and Bodhi isn’t completely all together in his head yet, but Chirrut and Baze are an interesting addition to their little squad._

_Their quiet comradery is also admirable and Jyn hopes that one day, she too can have a relationship like theirs._

_To know that someone has her back, come hell or high water._

_That they won’t leave her hanging when things go wrong.  
  
_

* * *

  
Unfortunately, things go sideways rather quickly, as it were.

“Does he look like a killer?” Chirrut asks the question and it sounds confusing to Jyn’s ears. _Who is he talking about? What killer?_

Baze is not confused, voice deep and rough. “No. He has the face of a friend.”

Jyn learns early that Chirrut sees far more than the naked eye can ever hope to perceive. Though she already knows that Cassian Andor has walls so thick around him, that he’s so closed off, Jyn never thought to imagine he could steer her so wrong.

And _so easily_.

It burns, fast and hard in her chest, a flash of pain in her skull. Betrayal; she knows this feeling well. As if her heart is about to crawl up her throat, to be violently spewed upon the floor. _How could I have been so blind? They consider my father their enemy._ So, she leaves their transport and runs as fast as she can.

The only thing she can do is thank her lucky stars that she gets to Galen Erso in time before Cassian can pull the trigger.

Captain Cassian Andor, with his elusiveness and his lovely dark eyes. Judgment, always written on his lips.  
  


* * *

  
The events unfold in a flurry of chaos and confusion. The screams of ships careening through the air and blasters firing into the dark, rainy sky. Eadu is a miserable planet and Jyn isn’t fond of it in the least.

As little respect as she has for the rebels themselves, they do a good job chasing off the Director and his men after a violent aerial fray. However, they also leave her father deeply wounded. She’s fortunate he’s alive, even though looking at his face is like looking at a distant memory.

“I’m here papa,” she says to him, leaning over his body, checking his injuries. Fear and worry consume her; she can’t lose him now, not when she finally has him all to herself. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Stardust.” His voice is a dream on her ears and her heart soars. “You shouldn’t have…come. The- the vulnerability must be…destroyed.”

“Shhh- shhh. Papa. Don’t speak.” He’s bleeding and she needs a medical droid something terrible right about now. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s thankful that the rain is disguising her momentary weakness. “I’m _saving_ you. You’re going to live. We’ll destroy it. I got your message. _Shhh_.”

Some of the rebels have begun to land, now that they’ve run off many of the Empire soldiers. A pair of men approach Jyn and she leans over her father’s body protectively, frowning up at them in challenge. “Is that Galen Erso?” The taller of the pair inquires, hands tight on his rifle as he sees her expression.

“He’s injured. He needs care,” Jyn says tightly, feeling her jaw tightening. She’ll kill anyone who tries to harm him.

“No one is going to hurt the scientist. Let us take him onboard and we’ll address his wounds. The General wants to speak with him at the base. Erso has important intel.”

 _He's not just some scientist,_ she wants to snarl in the face of their indifference. _He's my father. I need him._

Suspicious, Jyn slowly sits back from her father, allowing them to take him away. She follows them closely back to the transport they came in on. “Be careful with him,” she snaps, watching them like a hawk.

And thus, Galen Erso is loaded onto a rebel ship for emergency transport back to base and his daughter is not far behind, eyes wide and full of anxiety, worry for him. He’s weak, lying on a stretcher, being injected with fluids and painkillers.

Though she feels like she barely knows him, Jyn doesn’t want him taken from her again. She’s spent enough of her life without a father and she’d like the galaxy to grant her this one boon, _this one damn favor,_ that it let him live just for her.

The rebels have other reasons for wanting him alive, less pure reasons, naturally. Galen has knowledge and Draven wants his hand on it. Everyone, it seems, wants what’s in her father’s brain.

Jyn doesn’t know how to feel. The unconscious man is practically a stranger to her. She’s lived most of her life without him, but now that he’s here, just in her reach, she’s terrified of what it means. Can they have a normal father-daughter relationship? Is that even what she _wants_? Galen Erso, an Imperial Science Officer, her longer lost father, whose memories are far and few between in her mind?

Memories that are always accompanied by pain and bitterness. Abandonment. These feelings are scars that simply _do not heal_.

There’s a loud crash on the far side of the transport, drawing her attention away from her dark thoughts. What she sees makes her face harden. Cassian Andor. Her unwilling mission partner, perhaps her watchdog. The man who didn’t want her to come with. Her father’s would-be assassin.

The man who wants nothing to do with her.

Cassian is studiously avoiding her gaze, everyone’s gaze actually, and that’s how she knows that the sinking feeling in her belly is right. As he picks up the blaster rack he accidently knocked over, all Jyn can think is, _you rat bastard, you tried to fool me._

She shouldn’t say anything, but Jyn finds herself unable to keep her mouth shut.

“You were going to kill him,” she bites out with accusation. Her fingers clench around her papa’s limp fingers, still warm with life even as his pulse beats weakly, unconscious. “You _lied_ to me.”

The air grows tense almost immediately, crackling with unpleasant energy.

Chirrut clutches his staff, fingers flexing as he stares at the opposite wall, sensing the change in atmosphere more than he even registers the hostility in Jyn’s tone. Baze and Bodhi are pretending to be invisible.

Jyn waits, gaze boring holes into the side of Cassian’s face.

Those dark eyes finally meet her own and there are so many unspoken things in Cassian’s look, a thousand thoughts frozen on his tongue. The solid clench to his jawline. He reeks of danger and stubbornness and everything Jyn would normally be drawn to but instead she finds herself ready to wrap her fingers around his throat.

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” The words sound forced. Clawing their way out of Cassian’s throat. “I could have done it. I didn’t.”

 _That’s not the point and you know it,_ she wants to scream.  
  


* * *

  
  
It doesn’t take long for Galen Erso to heal from his injuries in the dutiful care of the rebels.

He cooperates very simply, though Draven and a few others have their suspicions of him. “How can we trust you? An Imperial Science Officer, giving up all the secrets of his trade?” Draven scoffs. “This could be a trap. A very clever trap.”

Jyn barely grits her teeth through some of these meetings. “You think my father is a liar? Why would he have risked his life to send that message with Bodhi?”

“You tell me.” Draven doesn’t trust Jyn either. He thought she was trouble the minute he laid eyes on her long record of mayhem.

Inhaling sharply, Jyn stands, fists balled up angrily. The nerve of these people, after her father has been nothing but courteous, despite his wounds ailing him, tiring him. They keep him locked up, in a nice holding cell, but he’s still a prisoner, the least they can do-

“Stardust.” A soft voice. Galen’s. “It’s alright. I do not blame Draven for his suspicions. That’s why I’m here to tell you all that destroying the Death Star is imperative. _It must be done_. The longer you wait to gather the final records I archived on Scarif, the longer the Empire has to find the weakness. You must act. Before it’s too late.”

Mon Mothma looks weary. “We cannot risk such an open assault on a strong Empire base. It is folly. Who would do this?”

There are whispers about the room. Whispers of _no way, are they out of their minds, it’s suicide, sheer suicide. No one will commit to this madness._

When no one speaks up, Jyn steps into the center of the room, watched by many pairs of eyes. Standing beside Galen, she says boldly, “I will go. I will do this. It must be done! If we don’t act, we will never have another chance!”

Galen stiffens and looks like he’d love to protest. Yet, it’s almost as if he realizes that he has no say in what Jyn does and doesn’t do; he lost that right when he left her to rot on a remote planet, all alone, left for a galactic terrorist to come pick her up.

Still, no one agrees to join Jyn. Mon Mothma sighs and says, “There is more thought that must be put into this. I cannot risk this fleet. I commend you for your bravery and committal to self-sacrifice, Jyn.”

Her father is returned to his comfortable cell, despite his yearning glances at Jyn. They haven't had a chance to truly speak, just the two of them. The time they have had generally gets thrown off course whenever Jyn's bitterness comes to a head. How is she to forget all those years without him? All that pain and misery? The soul sucking lonliness.

Everyone returns to their regular stations. Jyn feels hopeless, because how can she do this all by herself? Her father wasted years of his life on that dreadful planet, sabotaging the Death Star, and now everyone is too afraid to act on this opening?

 _Fools. Cowards._ She storms through HQ, feeling bitterness rising on her tongue. Then-

“I will do it. I’ll go with you.”

The voice makes Jyn turn, surprised.

Cassian stands behind her, looking grim. It looks like it took all his courage to say this to her (and pride), considering her feelings on what he’d originally been ordered to do to her father.

Forgiveness. He didn’t actually pull the trigger…but still, it’s hard to let it go. Perhaps this is his way of making it up to her, extending a branch of peace between them. Jyn lifts her chin a bit, in defiance, a hint of challenge in her gaze. “You’d help me? The loose cannon, no-good criminal that you don’t trust any more than you’d trust a Hutt?”

Regret is a pool of obsidian, his eyes so deep that she could fall into them, if she tried. If she just let go of her grudges. “I don’t think you’re no-good.” His voice is steady. “And I trust you far more than any Hutt, I promise you that.”

“So, just a sliver more?” Is that her voice teasing him?

The corner of his mouth actually twitches, as if he’s holding back a grin. She’d like to see him grin, perhaps. Maybe that would make up for him being an ass all this time.

“I’ll trust you as much as you want me to. As much as you need.”

Somehow, he’s still so distant, just out of reach. Jyn would love to mar his perfection, his stern persona. She wants to peel back all the bullshit and all the walls, just to see what his soul looks like behind it all. To see his heart, to see if it’s really as dark and soiled as he likes to pretend it is.

_Trust me as much as I want? Would you trust me enough to stay by my side, even if it means dying?_

_Or would you leave? Abandon me, as so many have._

_Just like all the rest._

“Hmm.” She doesn’t answer his question aloud, because it would make her feel vulnerable and that’s the last thing she wants. “So, just you and me? Against all of the Empire?” She’s skeptical. Grateful that someone is willing to risk their neck with her, but one man can’t possibly get the job done.

“The odds are not good, if you wanted to know.” K-2 joins the conversation, his dry brand of sarcasm creeping into his mechanical voice. “I’ve run the numbers. You’re sure to die. Probably badly.”

Baze and Chirrut catch up to them, Chirrut staring blankly through them all. Baze stands just at his shoulder, so close that perhaps their souls are touching, and nothing more. “You cannot forget about us,” Chirrut says with his usual measure.

“Did I agree to this?” Baze asks of his friend. “I don’t recall.”

“ _I_ am going,” Chirrut clears up for him. “So that means _you_ are going.”

“Hn. So it seems,” Baze replies with a soft roll of his eyes.

“Such attitude!” Chirrut says with a wry grin, as if he can actually see Baze’s expression. "Remember, I miss nothing."

Jyn feels a certain pang in her chest, seeing them interact. A strange yearning, wanting. When she glances at Cassian, she sees something similar reflected in his expression. Perhaps, he and Jyn are two lone wolves, yearning for a pack.

Looking to be accepted and part of something deeper.

More people join them and pledge to take the fight to the Empire, to Scarif. It seems, Jyn has started a rebellion inside of the rebellion, because so many are willing to risk their lives to take on the Empire, even though most of their leadership is nervous about acting.

Rebels have fire in their hearts, it seems. Jyn knows a bit about that.  
  


* * *

  
  
Some bonds can only be forged through blood and sweat.

Sometimes, these are the strongest bonds, the most unbreakable.

Cassian makes for a partner that Jyn would never give up for anything, by the end of it. He’s brave, quick on his feet. He's a bit dashing, if Jyn wants to be honest with herself, _which she doesn't_. Regardless, she finds herself trusting him to watch her back, mostly because she has no choice, but also because she so desperately _wants_ to trust him.

She finds herself worried about him, as they scramble through the archives, as they find what they are looking for. He keeps up with her, maybe she keeps up with him. Regardless, she enjoys having someone beside her for once, someone who is actually there for her and on her side.

Cassian comes to her rescue, at the very top of the spire, as she finds herself cornered by the man that comes from only her most vague memories, memories with her father. A pale uniform and blazing, icy blue eyes that seem to suck the strength right out of Jyn. A gun, pointed at her face and a voice that sounds like words are being spat out around razorblades, “ _Who are you_?”

She knows who he is, this man who came for her father, all those years ago. The man who took him away.

The man that Galen chose to leave with. The man who kept him under lock and key for the past decade or more. Jyn feels her stomach churn angrily. This man took her father from her. This man, who apparently couldn’t let him go, who couldn’t just let Galen Erso _be_.

“You know who I am,” she pronounces proudly and she sees recognition blaze to life in his gaze.

Then, a certain anger, almost tainted by revulsion, dismay, and it replaces the recognition in his eyes. Jyn can almost feel him start squeezing that trigger.

Only, he doesn’t get to, because he’s gasping out in pain, sinking to the floor. Cassian appears, gun outstretched, looking afraid for Jyn. As if he’d been afraid of her being hurt.

Jyn doesn’t know how to feel about that.

For a minute, when she holds Cassian’s gaze, it feels like _something_ is filling in the gaping wound in her chest, the one that's always looking for something to fill the emptiness. Something's snapping into place, making a home in her heart. She’s afraid of it, afraid of what it means.

Because when Cassian holds his hand out to her, she takes it, and as they descend down the long elevator, lights flashing like a dream, she can’t stop gazing him.

His breath, touching the nape of her neck. Warm, alive.

For a striking moment, Jyn wants to inhale his every exhale, see if that makes them entwined. If it makes them more than what they are right now. If that will make him a part of her that she’ll never forget. In this moment, she's never been more aware of another human being in her entire life. Briefly, she imagines his lips and what they would taste like.

It’s clear he’s willing to die for what they believe in, maybe even willing to die at her side, so she won’t be alone when it’s over. For once, she won’t be alone.

They are fortunate to escape on a rebel transport, along with a few of their other allies. Prisoners are taken, escapes are made, just as the great star of doom emits a bright light.

Scarif implodes as they hit lightspeed.  
  
  


* * *

  
  


He’s a warm weight, beside on her on their escape ship. Jyn can’t erase him from her mind, not when Cassian is _so utterly there_.

“We did it,” she whispers, almost to herself. “We have a chance to destroy that floating monster. My father’s work to bring the Empire down won’t be in vain.”

Cassian doesn’t turn to face her, but his hand engulfs hers. Jyn is painfully aware of his thigh, alongside her own. Strong, firm. Like a blazing beacon of feeling and sensation.

“All because of you,” he says softly, watching the stars. Jyn finds herself wishing he would turn and gaze at her. Her ribcage feels too tight. “All because of you and your rebel spirit.”

When he does finally face her, she wants to lose herself in midnight eyes. Instead, she offers him a tired smile, clutching his hand tighter. It feels right. Like, almost like she has the right to touch him. He’s suddenly tangible, attainable.

It’s terrifying, the way her heart races at these thoughts that she shouldn’t have. People have always disappointed her before; it's human nature. 

Cassian’s lips quirk and he gives her hand a squeeze that can only be defined as fond.

“What are they doing? I sense something in the Force.” Chirrut is ever perceptive, even without his vision, sitting regally on the far side of the transport beside his steadfast companion, who looks worse for wear, covered in sweat and sand.

“Hush,” Baze mutters with his low, thundering voice. “They’re smiling.”

“Ah. That explains everything,” the blind man replies cryptically.

Jyn gives him an odd look that she knows he can’t see, but decides not to ask about his comment. Maybe she doesn’t want to jinx it. Maybe she doesn’t want it said aloud, this feeling inside of her.

Maybe this feeling doesn’t need words.  
  
And, that's perfectly fine.

* * *

  
  
The base is alive with celebration and mourning. An odd mix. Celebration for all of those who returned and what they accomplished for the cause. Mourning, for the many who were lost.

The moment Jyn steps off the transport, she sees her father coming towards her, released from his cell, likely out of courtesy. Everyone knows a parent fears for their child, no matter how grown the child may be.

Galen approaches Jyn, as if afraid he’s seeing things. As if he doesn’t quite believe that she’s alive. “You made it back,” he breathes. “Are you unharmed, Stardust?”

He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to hug her. It shows in the stiff way he stands, the way his hands clench, the way he clearly wants to reach out. Galen still doubts she’s forgiven him, for leaving her all those years ago. It’s true, Jyn supposes. She still hasn’t quite forgiven him for all the lonely, angry years she spent.

Her childhood nearly null and void.

Yet, she loves him, a feeling she can’t contain, despite the spikey edges of her being. She throws her arms around him and marvels that the last time she hugged him like this, she was a small girl. “I’m fine papa. We got the plans.”

“I know.” There is warmth in his quiet gaze. “You are brave, like your mother. Bold and unflinching, Jyn. She would be so proud of you, just like I am.”

It almost brings tears to her eyes, so she looks away and blinks quickly. It wouldn’t do to cry. “I missed you, all those years. Even when I thought I didn’t. Even when I thought I hated you, for leaving me.”

He kisses her forehead, soft, like a ghost. Galen’s eyes catch on something behind her. “There will be plenty of time later for us to talk about our past. Your…struggles…and my part in them. But, right now it looks like your friends are waiting for you to grab some libations with them.”

Jyn spins about to look, and sure enough, Cassian is holding up a drink in her direction, eyebrows raised. Chirrut, Baze, and Bodhi are circled beside him, in the middle of all the commotion surrounding them. Galen pats her shoulder and retreats, heading back to solitude. Back the way he came, seemingly lost.

A part of Jyn wants him to stay, but another part just wants to be with her new team of partners.

The drinking and dancing lasts for only two hours before more straggler ships begin to arrive.

When a large transport lands, a group of armed men run to it quickly, not a part of their celebrations. Jyn and her companions all pause, wondering what the sudden tense air is about. “What’s happening? Has somebody special arrived?” Chirrut is frowning at the sky, staring straight upwards. “Someone important?”

Jyn watches as some of the leaders come outside to greet the transport, with none other than her father chasing them from behind with long strides. He seems agitated, face tight with a strange sort of worry that makes Jyn feel cold. The expression is so different from how he’d been only hours earlier.

 _What’s going on here?_ She wonders, watching the scene unfold with vague dread.

When the transport opens, Jyn feels her mouth drop open slightly. It’s none other than the dreadful Director Orson Krennic, looking worse for wear, being dragged outside by two strong rebels. He’s in cuffs and he’s bleeding from a serious head wound, the blood stark and violent amongst all the celebrations going on.

“Put him in solitary,” Mon Mothma orders firmly, watching with thin lips, a sterile sort of anger in her gaze as she looks on at the infamous Officer. “Get the drugs for interrogation. We need him talking as soon as possible.”

Jyn’s father reaches the group and comes to a halt in front of the Director, taking a quick gander at his wound. The other man stiffens visibly, even in his wrecked state, as if trying to get away from Galen’s hands. Something passes between the two men as their gazes clash. Galen is indecipherable, but the irritated surprise that melts into brief relief is easy to see on Krennic's face. There and quickly hidden behind Imperial coolness. “No. That is completely unnecessary,” Galen is saying firmly, holding out a warning hand to ward others away. “He’s got a blaster wound and has clearly sustained a blow to the head. He’s disorientated. I must insist that you allow him medical attention first.”

Someone is shouting in outrage, “He doesn’t deserve any mercy! He’s responsible for that floating death machine!”

“As am I,” Galen says quietly, full of reproach. Shame deep in his tone. Jyn’s heart aches for him, the beer in her hand losing its flavor as the scene unfolds. “Allow me to see to the wound. Place him in my holding cell. You can lock us both in. It doesn’t matter. If you act as you intend, you are no better than the Empire itself.”

“This is absurd,” Draven scoffs, face full of bloodthirsty disdain. “He’s a war criminal and deserves no quarter.”

“Put him with me,” Galen says again in his soft, rumbling tone, staring only at the calm face of Mon Mothma. “I can manage the Director. When he comes to his right mind, he will talk. I will make sure of it.”

 _What is he doing?_ Jyn can’t make heads or tails of it. _Why is he standing up for that monster? After what he did to our family? Taking him away from us?_

“You’ll convince him?” Mon Mothma’s eyebrows rise, though there is speculation there. “I find that very hard to believe. Very well. Have it your way, Erso. The Imperial Officer is remanded into your care.”

When Draven nods his dubious agreement, the rebel men drag Krennic away, his feet dragging, cuffs around his wrists clanging together.

Jyn takes a few steps forward, towards Galen. “Father-”

“Not now, Stardust.” His voice is clipped, but his gaze is apologetic as he strides away.

“What’s that all about, I wonder?” Cassian is beside her once more, frowning. “I’d want my jailer to pay for his crimes; I’d rather see him executed on the spot, not stitched up.”

Bodhi gives him a scolding look. “Galen is a _pacifist_. It’s not in his nature to harm people just for the go of it.”

Cassian scoffs. “Well, gee, I didn’t _know_.”

"Now you do." Bodhi replies.

“The force is dark around them,” Chirrut adds suddenly in his measured tone. “The scientist and the architect. Much pain. Much suffering. All of it, very, very old.”

Jyn doesn’t want to drink her alcohol anymore, feeling herself sober. Bitterly, she recalls old, fuzzy memories, memories that seem like they’re from another age. “I remember them as friends. Once.”

“Clearly, that friendship has soured,” Baze mutters, shifting to take a deep swig of his liquor.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Galen stands on the far side of his cell, meeting the gaze of the man on the cot. If looks could kill…well. Galen would be dead a thousand times over.

They remain silent, both waiting until the sounds of retreating footsteps disappear. No one else needs to hear the conversation that Galen knows they are about to have. The air is tense, thick with a sick miasma of old anger. It’s just the two of them. Seems like it always has been.

It's the calm before the storm.

"Bravo." A sneer pulls at those familiar lips, eyes flashing like a blizzard. “You destroyed our legacy. Years of work and resources. And for what? _What_ , you self-righteous farmboy? Is this knife in my back all because I ruined your insipid life with Lyra-”

“As always, you’re making it about you,” Galen replies breathlessly, trying to keep his calm expression in place, like a shield. He needs strength. He needs to feel nothing and hold onto that absence of feeling. If he allows anger to guide him, even for a moment, Krennic will fly off the handle. He's always been hot-tempered, incendiary. Even when they were much younger men. Setting Krennic off while they're both trapped in the same cell is not high on Galen's to do list. “It’s not.”

_It's about the flying death machine you tricked me into powering, what it's going to be used for- what it's already been used for._

“The hell it isn’t,” Krennic snaps. A whisper of that bright wrath coiling, like fire inside a dragon. “You’ve done nothing but hold it against me, all these years. All your perfect distance. Wanting to appear unattainable. You even convinced me that you actually saw the wisdom of our dream, our glorious achievement.” A bitter smile. “That was a brilliant lie, for a man who’s terrible at lying, Galen.”

“I learned from the best, Krennic. You know that.”

Gas-flame blue eyes narrow slightly. His voice drops. “You used to say my name, once.”

“I used to do many things,” Galen replies, trying not to feel a thing. It's always been easier to not feel. To not let emotions mess with his purpose. “But that was a long, _long_ time ago.”

The Director is giving him an unpleasant look and Galen knows this conversation isn’t going the way Krennic wants it to. Galen knows all his tells, hell, he’s spent more of his life with Krennic than he did with Lyra. Galen knows what to do to gain favor. He also knows how to cut deep. How to set off the vicious explosions.

Krennic’s inner armor has a dent in it and his jaw works briefly as he grits out, “So it seems.”

The pause that falls between them is deafening. Galen hates the way that Krennic is looking at him in this very moment, because it mirrors the way he looked at Galen back on Eadu. The moment he realized Galen had betrayed him. Only, Krennic had betrayed Galen first, so doesn't that make them even? Perfectly so, in fact. One doesn't need to be a scientist to see _that_. 

Only, there are always other things that should be factored in. Worse wrongs, that date back much further. Things that make Galen feel sick at night, whenever he thinks on the past. “There’s something that’s been on my mind, as of late. I’ve been wanting to ask.” Eyes darkening, face going terribly blank, Galen utters, “Do you know the best lie you ever told?”

Blood trickles down the side of Krennic’s face. There's a few scarlet droplets on the floor. He gives Galen a disbelieving look before he rolls his eyes dramatically. “ _Oh, Galen_. Really? There’s been so many.” A sharp grin, like a knife wound, appears on his face. “But, I’m sure you’ll tell me with great attention to detail. _Enthrall me_.”

Krennic’s typical, barbed cruelties. It always amazes -no, _humiliates_ \- Galen to realize how blind he had been, that he didn’t see what lay inside of his friend, for all those years. It shames him that he didn’t believe Lyra, whenever she expressed her reservations about Krennic. Her immense distrust and dislike of him.

_“I don't care that he's your closest friend, Galen. When he smiles, his eyes always tell a different story,” she’d said once. “I can’t trust a man like that. I can’t trust that I know what he’s after.”_

_“Orson’s not after anything. The project is important to him and he’s giving me access to the kyber to further my research on energy containment-”_

_Her face had shifted into a snarl. “Yes, because he knows that’s what you want. To continue working with kyber! It's your passion and he makes it his business to know everything there is to know about you. He knows what you want and he’s cleverly maneuvered you in place so he can give it to you and keep you under his thumb. Where did the Empire get access to the kyber? Off of the dead Jedi, Galen! Murdered Jedi.”_

_“Orson wasn’t involved in that.”_

_Lyra had closed her eyes and groaned, pacing. Just like he wasn't involved with what happened on Vault, she wanted to ask accusingly, yet held her tongue._ _Jyn was sleeping in the other room. If Lyra started throwing down every ugly thing that Krennic ever did into Galen's face, it might get loud. “You are so blind where he's concerned. Do you even listen to yourself? Do you even realize that he’d love to have me off surveying caves all months of the year?”_

_Galen had thought her mad, that she’d stepped too far. “Why would he want that? You’re my wife. He would never-”_

_“Can’t you see? He wants me out of the way. I’m an_ inconvenience _. I don’t fall for his lies and he knows it’s a danger to his relationship with you! He’s told me as much, Galen! He_ told _me."_

Pushing the painful memory to the back of his mind, Galen comes to Krennic’s side and leans down to whisper in his ear, very carefully, “Your best lie was that you ever cared about our friendship.” He stays for a moment, just to feel the way the words sink in. Feels the way that Krennic goes tense, swallowing audibly.

“You know that’s not true,” Krennic says, barely a whisper, sounding ill. 

“I don’t know. Even if I were to examine our days on Brentaal, I still wouldn't be sure of your intentions.” Galen leans back. “I think the only time you don’t lie is when-” Galen cuts himself off sharply, a wave of nausea rushing over him, like a waterfall. His mind has caught on a very different memory, of the way Krennic looks when the lights are dim, dim enough that he believes any sort of vulnerability is hidden in his gaze, his fingers slowly undoing the pale of his pristine uniform.

Galen can’t speak another word. Suddenly, doesn’t want to, eaten by his own anger at himself. Self-loathing. It feels like poison is in his veins. His jaw clenches and he feels like suffocating. 

He catches Krennic's eyes and does not feel his heart tighten painfully.

He _does not_.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Comments and kudos are absolutely loved! They motivate me and make me smile oodles T.T XD  
> More Cassian/Jyn goodness. Also more Galen/Orson dramafest. 
> 
> ♥
> 
> PS. I am in such an odd Rogue One writing mood. It's probably because I finally read _Catalyst_ , who knows? Regardless, upon reading the book, I had these interesting vibes the entire time. Seriously, the whole Orson vs Lyra thing is canon and I'm tickled by their venom for each other.  
>  _Lyra: I'd really love to just have Galen to myself so he can focus on things that matter to_ **our family**.  
> Orson: I'd really love to just have Galen to myself so he can focus on things that matter to **me**.
> 
> Not only that, but there's a line in the _Rogue One novel by Alexander Freed_ where Lyra literally considers telling Jyn "that's your father's special friend". Like, oh really, Lyra? Please elaborate what you mean by that XD


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